Compassion
by Marish89
Summary: Set after Call of Silence. A short oneshot about the relationship that Kate and Yost have. Kibbs romance hint at ending.


The minute I danced with him, I felt something in my heart that I had never felt before. This man tugged at my heart in a way that only a father could. He felt safe, secure and he smelt like home. As we danced, I felt him take my hand and place it carefully, almost reverently, over his heart. I felt a tear roll down my cheek, as I came to realise the extent of this man's pain at losing his wife.

While he was not trying to replace her, he just wanted someone to hold. I guess I reminded him of her as we looked similar. I also knew that I would take care of this man as if he was my family from this day on. Regardless of what Gibbs had always said about never getting too involved in a case, this one had struck all of us, even Gibbs.

It made me realise that life was short, and if you found someone you loved, you should hold onto them forever; because life with the person you loved was never long enough. Ernie Yost was representative of that. The fifty-eight years he had with the love of his life wasn't enough, and he would love her until he died.

Later that evening, after Gibbs had taken the Former Marine out to dinner and escorted him home, I drove to his place. Gently I knocked on the door, and waited for him to open it. When he did, I smiled at him softly and he moved aside as I entered.

"You want something to drink?" he asked me.

"No thanks. I just came to see if you are alright?" I stated, although not completely disclosing my purpose here.

He nodded before motioning me to sit in the living room. As I walked in, I noticed that the coffee table was covered in photo's from years ago.

Quietly, he picked up a photo and held it out to me. Silently, I accepted it and looked down at the picture. It was of him and his beloved late wife, Dorothy. As I looked at the image, he began to tell me about his wife and himself. He told me of the times they had, how they met, married and where they went. Accompanying his tales were photo's that progressed from colour to black and white as the time went by.

After a couple of hours of talking, drinking and remembering the times that they had together, he fell asleep in the chair as I sat on the couch and looked on. Tenderly, I draped a blanket over him, tucking in the corners before I lightly kissed his forehead and left.

The following morning, I was woken by a telephone call.

"Todd," I said into the phone, the sleep evident in my voice.

"Hey," someone said into the phone, "Why'd you leave last night?"

"Oh, Mr. Yost," I replied, realizing who was speaking to me, "I didn't want to be presumptuous."

"Would you like to join me for dinner?"

"I would love to. Where would you like me to meet you?"

"My place, I'll cook dinner for you," he said, and his voice sounded pleased.

"What time?"

"Eight," he said, before continuing, "You up for another long night?"

"Yes, sure. What do you have in mind?"

"I want to know about you. You know a lot about me after last night. You remind me of Dorothy, so much," he paused, and I could hear the pain in his voice as he spoke of his late wife.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Yost."

"I know you are. Come over tonight, Agent Todd."

"Mr. Yost, it's Kate, please."

"Then you can call me Ernie, Kate."

"I'll see you tonight, Ernie." I said before hanging up and getting ready for work.

Later that evening I went to his house, and we had talked until early in the morning. This time, I had stayed overnight, and we'd continued this pattern for a number of months. I'd come over to his place every night from work and we'd talk for hours before contentedly falling asleep on the couch.

Six months later, I had gone over to his place, like always and found him asleep in his chair. Waking him gently, I asked if he wanted dinner.

He nodded but didn't say anything. I quickly made a small meal, sensing something was wrong. That night all he talked about was how much he appreciated everything that I had done for him, and what I meant to him. When he fell asleep that night, he never woke.

One year later, I look down at his grave, realising exactly what he gave me.

"Thank you, Ernie," I said as I leant back into Jethro's arms.


End file.
